Arrival

Christmas day is near closing.  My cherubs are all snug in their beds, accounted for ...those here with me.  My treasure, I know, now, where she is ...and I am pleased, contented ...not without thirst, not without want, but I am content. 
I have shared my travels, my sorrowful heart, held close treasuring my precious Phoebe ...(my precious cargo, as my Neenie would say), on our way toward Bethlehem.  Underfoot has not been easy, but there have been respites along the way.  It has been a journey, well worth the orientation, the heart setting, the mind setting ...all pointing toward Bethlehem.  I have chosen to trust ...and that ...has not been easy.  It has demanded a conformity of my own will to God's.  What mother would choose to trust God in the taking of her own child?  Only one, Christ's own mother.  Because I asked the mother of my savior to guide me, lead me ...she has.  I have arrived in Bethlehem.  It is a rather long story.  There are lots of details along the way.  I invite you to listen in, and hear my tale.  It is all centered on reaching for God ...reaching for truth.  And in a selfish way, it is all about me ...this mother, whose heart was shattered one beautiful October day, eleven weeks ago, when I had no time to say goodbye to my Phoebe.  If you are reading here, hoping I expose personal details of her life, tell you she was in dire agony, tell you my girl had a horrible life ...than read no further.  This is the story of a mother whose teenager daughter lived in a loving home, a home of faith and laughter, a home willing to fight the good fight to finish strong.  This is the story of a mother whose ultimate goal is to get all of her children to Heaven.

When I started out, dazed and confused, I only knew one thing ...God was the answer.  I wanted other answers, why, how, who, when?  But in the recesses of both mind and heart, I knew those question might never be answered.  And so, with His grace, I took that first step forward in the direction I felt called.  I was asked to be counted, as Joseph had been asked.  So, I followed ...to Bethlehem.  In His divine generosity, Advent became my map,  a wooden spiral my road, prayer and sacraments my nourishment along the way.  There were several lightposts that led me onward as friends, well invested in this faith walk, lit one lantern after another with their tears, their encouragement, their prayer.  There were several places of rest too, most especially, my Joy, a nine year old girl, whose life intersected with our own 18 years ago.  I was blessed all along the way ...fortified with gifts that only God could provide.  Some days have doubled me over in pain that has tormented every cell of my body.  I would stand in Phoebe's room clutching clothing, papers, shoes just to grasp a sliver of the girl who left me.  Shaken and out of place I would move through the day, focusing on those still here asking God to help me see them, care for them.  In caring for them,  I could care for Phoebe too ...connected by blood.  Other days, I would fill a lift, a lightness that rested in my heart, a promise that all would be well ...a trust.  But always, I tried my best to stay on route, Phoebe with me.  "Please God, let her hear me, so I can tell her I love her, tell her goodnight."  I've wanted nothing more than to deliver her to God, joyfully.  He shared her with me for seventeen years, four months, twenty one days, sixteen hours.  I am blessed ...but I wanted more ...still do.
I've prayed for three very specific things.  First, I prayed that I might joyfully offer Phoebe back to the infant Jesus on Christmas morning.  Secondly, I've prayed for a disposition that would place me at the stable in the manger ...a heart and mind set.  Third, knowing that more souls are released from Purgatory on Christmas Day, I pleaded with God to bring her to Heaven on this day if he had not already.  A friend told me tonight she had worried for me if I did not get what I was looking for.  I had really expected nothing, no confirmation of any one of these requests.  I had made the choice to trust God ...and when you do that, there is a certain "letting go" that doesn't require or expect a response.  I guess the only thing I had really expected was that my heart could at least rest, knowing that I had taken this time of the liturgical year heading towards this great feast, and done all I could to present my daughter back to God.  I had not considered this generous,  I just thought it was right.  There is the expression "God's generosity can never be outdone."  My story is testament to His profound generosity that has rocked this aching heart and assured me of His love for me, my family, and most especially for Phoebe.
My first prayer, to offer Phoebe joyfully back to the Christ Child, was affirmed early on in my travels when we met the mother of Joy.  Joy died at nine from electrocution ...and my husband was the first responder.  He tried to save her.  Joy's life ended nine months and five days before Phoebe's birth.  Literally, as Joy's life ended Phoebe's began.  What is the likelihood of meeting these two mothers meeting, and grasping the significance of these two lives intertwined in God's divine plan?  Only God could arrange such a meeting, such awareness, such vision and clarity.  It was simply far too obvious for me to ignore ...it fostered hope ...which led to Joy. 
My second prayer asked, begged for my heart to have the full sense of what happened so many, many years ago when Christ was born, an awareness at least in mind and heart, where I could imagine what it must have been like ...why it must have been.  I have my spiritual reading guiding me there ...and it did.  But then, I am invited by an unassuming, joyful farmer girl to help her feed the animals on Christmas day.  Just up the road, I would go to the stable and walk among the animals, many the kind that circled around the newborn infant.  They would breath and they would smell so much as they had so many years ago.  And we did go ...we fed them as night fell, and I breathed in the air that captured all they are and all they gave.  They gave themselves that first Christmas ...and they warmed Him.  I took in the sky, so big and wide, pink streaks the only hint of day ...and I thanked Him as I thought of my Phoebe truly there with Him.  And I am with her as my other children scurry around me filling buckets, tossing hay, finding eggs.  She would have liked this ...does like this.  You notice details of His creation and the order of His plan among the animals.  How far us humans have strayed.  We are not animals, yet we have much to learn from them ...their simplicity, their dependence, their trust.  He created man to have dominion over the animals, over the earth ...but I am struck at how we have lost our way ...and it is them that teaches us, that offers us the Truth, just as they did when Christ was born.  It is a time of sweetness and sorrow as I come to know the promise of Phoebe still in my life, but the loss of holding her hand, hearing her laugh, seeing the twinkle in her eye, the confident command of her tasks ...for now.  He has assured me by bringing me to the stable that she is there ...truly in Bethlehem.  He lets me look ...even feel, but I must wait my turn.  With abundance and generosity He has heard and answered my prayer in a most concrete way ...beyond my imaginings ...beyond even my desires.  Still, He gives more.
Hours before I would step foot at the farm, anticipating the greatness of that gift, I ready our own home for Christmas morning.  Christmas Eve is waning and my house is quiet.  I hear a gentle knock at the door.  It is so late, I don't recognize it at first, but then again.  She stands in my doorway and says my name.  I have always loved the way this friend says my name ...it sounds almost foreign on her tongue, two syllables instead of three, this Irish tongue, born here, but imprinted with a slight brogue that reveals itself when it is only her heart speaking.  I don't think she sees that in herself, but it just one of thousands of things that make me love her.  There is a package in her hand.  "I wanted to give this to you, tonight, I can't stay, I just wanted to make sure I got this to you."  Should I open it now I ask.  She tells me I can wait.  She sits with me a few moments, and we both fill with tears.  She is the mother of two of Phoebe's three best friends.  She loves Phoebe very much.  When Phoebe had died, I had cried to her, so distraught, spun out into orbit.  Had Phoebe been so sad.  "No," she had said. "Whenever I saw her, I saw her smile like the sun, and her eyes that danced."  Yes, she had loved her so well.  We spoke a little, and agreed we would meet at the cemetery on Christmas day.  It would be fitting that she accompany me ...more than I could know then.  I put her package under the tree. A bit later, I lit my spiral Advent wreath, all ablaze, and prayed the rest of my rosary.  "Where do you think she is now, at the manger?" I asked my husband.  "Not yet, she's walking with the Shepherds."  he answered.  "Yes, probably"
I had hoped for a dream, something while I slept that would let me know Phoebe was there.  I didn't really expect it ...and it wasn't to be.  Still, I felt something ...some lightening.
Morning comes quick when there are little ones about, full of anticipation.  Santa had indeed come. I did not gasp at her absence.  I did not tear up ...I stayed present with the living ...and was glad for their smiles.   A bit later, my husband and I sat and I pulled out the gift delivered just hours ago.  As I lifted the tissue,  I could see immediately what it was, and began to sob.  A true gift, is one that is treasured and deeply loved by the giver.
No person can ever give that gift as God himself did in giving us His own Son.  But, it is the rarest of people who will let go of something that speaks to their own soul ...because there is a cost ...a loss for them. They can do this because they see the gain for the other ...the receiver of their gift.
Several years ago now, this friend introduced me to a most powerful novena which begs St. Joseph for intercessory prayer, http://www.catholictradition.org/Joseph/joseph28.htm .  It is a beautiful prayer, that is demanding, but strengthening.  You will pray for something, but you will grow so much ...each word, each phrase oriented to the ultimate destination.  We have prayed this novena together many times, and separately even more.  It is called the Novena to the Holy Cloak.  St. Joseph protected the Blessed Mother and the Christ child with his cloak ...a real physical article of clothing.  A few years ago, an elderly women passed away.  She had several relics (authentic pieces of a significant item, article ... deemed holy) and her husband wanted my friend to have one.  Not knowing her devotion to and trust in St. Joseph's intercession on her behalf to God, the husband gave her a relic of St. Joseph's cloak.  We were both stunned when this happened, amazed at God's timing and again, His generosity.  I saw the relic, but for some reason had not been able to see the enormity of it ...because God had other plans and did not grant me the understanding then.
As I moved the tissue, I saw the top of the relic and knew immediately what it was ...or so I thought.  It was the relic of the holy cloak, the cloak that protected and warmed Christ in the manger.  I was being brought to Bethlehem.  I pressed it close and thought of Phoebe.  Looking at it, three little, barely visible flecks with writing in Latin under each.  I figured out that it not only was a relic of St. Josephs' cloak, but also a relic of Blessed Mother's veil.  I knew I would go to the barn later to be among the animals.  This too!  To behold in my hands a piece of the cloak and the veil, articles that grazed the very flesh of our Savior.  It was far more than my mind could have considered ...even accept in this moment.  Yet, here it is, physical articles that were indeed present in the stable at Bethlehem.  I was and am stunned by His incredible generosity.
I meet her at the grave.  Here lies the body of my daughter on Christmas morning.  Oh, how I miss her.  "I knew it was the holy cloak, but I didn't know the veil." I say as I walk toward her.   Yes, my patient friend says to me.  She knows my impatience, my rushing that misses important details ...she is so very patient with me, gentle as she waits.
She looks at the relic with me.  "Do you know what this is?" she asks me.  "No, I don't".  She pauses, looks at me and says my name again.  "Carolyn, this is a relic of His crib." 
There are no words for me to say.  He, my God, has brought me as much as He could, as close as I could go to the real Nativity.  What more could I ask for?  I, this woman, gifted with wordiness ...have none, except ...Thank You, my dear Heavenly Father, Thank you.  I have envisioned approaching the crib with Phoebe, to offer her, leave her there with Him.  How could I have known or thought, that God would bring the crib to me?
My third prayer was that Phoebe would go to Heaven on Christmas Day, if she was not already there.  We can never know for sure where a soul is.  As Catholics we believe a soul ultimately destined to be with God, can in rare instances, go directly to Heaven, or more often, spend time in Purgatory to achieve the state of perfection worthy to be in the presence of God.  Lots of people think of Purgatory as a place of punishment, like a prison.  In fact, it is a place where a soul frees itself from all the stains of sin ....Personally, I find great comfort in knowing of such a place.  Sadly, there are souls that meet eternal damnation in that place called Hell.  I want everyone to find Heaven ...most especially, my kids.
In a matter of twelve hours this past Thursday, four very separate and distinct conversations took place with me.  Three of those conversations were not prompted by me, but by different people.  One of them was prompted by me, but was totally unrelated to my prayer request.  At the end of the day, I had some things to think about.  As I mulled them over, I came to an acceptance of something I had not even considered before.  This acceptance took hold in me this morning.  It made me ask a question about Phoebe and her soul.  I was not thinking about my prayer ...and it wasn't until I was at her grave, standing with my friend, who showed me the relic of the crib, that I realized my third prayer had been answered.  There is no greater confirmation or consolation God could have offered me, short of bringing Phoebe back to me.  He has given Christmas to me in a spiritual, but also very physical and tangible way.  God asked me, continues to ask me, to pay a very high price.  I do not want to have a dead child. Period.  But, He sees that struggle to trust Him still ...choose Him, still.  He sees.
I have trusted Him ...even in my anger.  I have followed Him ...  I have stepped outside of where I want to be, bundled in my grief and missing of Phoebe, and I have chosen Him ....because He has offered me the grace to choose Him.
And He has blessed me far more than I deserve.  I am weary, yet rested.  I am missing her, yet glad for where she is.  I am imperfect ...and yet He loves me.  I have loved Phoebe, and He has promised me He loves her more. 
This will take some time to absorb.  He has been outrageously generous, I know that.  It will continue to seep in, taking hold of who I am ....forming me into who He wants me to be.  
May each of you find  and see the blessings He has for you this Christmas.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace.  Amen.